


Tales from Eden

by Marasa



Category: RedLetterMedia RPF
Genre: (I got the game ‘dealbreakers’ from YMH), Dirty Talk, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Protectiveness, Roommates, Shaving Pubes, They’re gross together, piss (kinda), watching porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:00:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23546545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marasa/pseuds/Marasa
Summary: The beer had long since gone lukewarm. The half-eaten pizza in the kitchen was host to an orgy of flies. Drowning out the hum of the heater, the fuzzy soundtrack of filthy moaning and erratic thrusting as embarrassing porno played out on the laptop screen ahead of Mike.How exactly had they gotten here again?
Relationships: Mike/Jay
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	Tales from Eden

**Author's Note:**

> This quarantine, amirite? If you follow me on tumblr, this is the fic I was writing a week or two ago that I was planning to post but then the quarantine went on and the Verotika video dropped, and it has since mutated into this, basically my take on two dirty men “quarantining” together. 
> 
> Also, if you follow EFIL, I’m currently editing that chapter (it’s kinda long) and I’m also almost done with another fic with these two that’s currently at like 14,000 words, so expect that relatively soon.
> 
> All right. Welp. I hope you’re all staying healthy and sane in this wild time. Take it easy and take care of yourself :)
> 
> (PS There’s piss in here but it’s not really written as a kink and it only makes a brief appearance, so if it isn’t your thing, no worries)

The beer had long since gone lukewarm. The half-eaten pizza in the kitchen was host to an orgy of flies. Drowning out the hum of the heater, the fuzzy soundtrack of filthy moaning and erratic thrusting as embarrassing porno played out on the laptop screen ahead of Mike.

Friday night. Just like any lonely other.

Except, not really. Because Mike’s longtime friend and coworker, Jay, was sitting next to him on the couch, chewing at his fingernail and staring at the naked bodies onscreen. 

How exactly had they gotten here again?

Jay’s apartment fire— that was right. Mike had received the call late Thursday night last week, just after his second Hot Pocket and right before the shitty B-movie coming up on cable. He was planning on ignoring it until he caught Jay’s name and the stupid contact picture Mike had taken of him at some horror festival Jay drug him to. That picture of Jay splattered with fake blood, smiling enthusiastically and giving a thumbs up, never failed to elicit a fond warmth in him. Jay, that beautiful, weirdo prick. 

So he answered the phone with a smirk, only to be met with the horror of shrieking sirens and Jay’s tired voice saying he needed to be picked up as soon as possible, that it was a mess over here and could he just stay with him tonight?

Mike didn’t answer. Mike didn’t ask questions. Mike was already sprinting out the door and running at least two red lights on his way to Jay, who was presumably watching hopelessly as flames ate up his entire life and Blu-Ray collection.

_ His Blu-ray collection! _ Mike thought and slammed a hand down on the steering wheel.

His stomach had been in knots when he pulled into the decrepit parking lot of Jay’s apartment building. Thankfully, no giant flames met him but a faint trail of black smoke trickled from the back of the building illuminated by the pulsing red light of two quiet fire engines sitting static curbside. 

Residents mulled about in the parking lot, confused and bitterly cold from the shade of Milwaukee midnight. Jay was one of them, shivering in his pajamas and not wearing any shoes. He spotted Mike’s junky little car as it pulled up and shuffled over on his bare feet red with the cold. 

“Holy fuck, what happened!?” Mike emerged from the driver’s side in a whirlwind of panic. “Are you okay? Shit! Jay, what--”

“Please, just.” Jay sighed. “Get me out of here.” 

Jay must have been sleeping when the fire alarm went off; his eyes were puffy with sleep and his voice was groggy. Mike ripped off his jacket as Jay crawled in the passenger side door and threw it over him, turned up the heat to its maximum capabilities. Jay didn’t know what had happened other than the alarm going off so he didn’t have much to say, but Mike talked non-stop the entire car ride home about how Jay didn’t have to worry about anything, that he could have anything he wanted of Mike’s, he didn’t have to go to work if he really didn’t want to.

If it was embarrassing, it didn’t matter; Jay was already asleep in the passenger seat. 

Jay would receive an email early the next morning explaining that a small fire had started on the fourth floor after a mishap with a toaster and a faulty electrical plug. While the event hadn’t been life-threatening, the smoke damage was apparent and the ancient electrical system would have to be replaced with a newer one before more fires started sprouting up. 

These repairs would take a week, maybe two, considering the quickly approaching snowstorm. 

Clear cut, to the point, but that night had felt chaotic and spinny and Mike was still strung tight with anxiety as he ushered Jay up to his apartment and into his bed. 

Mike had been feeling weirdly sensitive in the wake of the surge of adrenaline that hit him faster than speed when he first heard Jay’s exhausted croak over the phone requesting his presence. Mike seemed more affected by the whole situation than Jay who treated it like a vague annoyance. It felt like ‘crisis averted,’ some real shit, and Mike felt better having Jay in his bed at the end of it where he knew he’d be safe or something horrible like that. 

Mike scooped up his dirty laundry from the foot of the bed and threw it in his closet as Jay pulled the plush comforter up to his shoulders. 

“What?” Mike said upon hearing Jay murmur something. 

“I did…”

“You did what?”

Jay whispered in the dark only lit dimly by the light coming in from the hallway, and Mike’s own bedroom suddenly felt like Jay’s as long as he was under the covers. “I did it. The fire. I did it.”

Mike blinked down at Jay’s face, serene with almost-sleep. His eyelashes were fanned over his smooth cheeks and his lips twitched over his large, front teeth. “Are you serious? Jay.”

“Mhmm…” Jay rubbed his nose with his palm, tucked it back under his cheek. “No.”

And it was frightening how ready Mike had been to cover for him, to not report him to the police but to pack his bags and get them the hell out of there before they could piece the truth together and name Jay, ‘Arsonist.’

“Don’t say shit like that, you dick.”

“I had to, though.” Jay peeked open his left eye, smiled up at Mike. “The look on your face…”

“Goodnight, Jay.” And Mike left the bedroom door open as he went out to sleep on the couch. 

Jay scared Mike, really. He had the weirdest sense of humor. Less so ‘humor’ and more so ‘dark trickery’ in terms of evil dadaist musings. So when Jay told Mike to turn on porn, Mike sincerely had thought it was just another fucked up joke.

They had been hanging out on the couch watching Youtube videos. This was day ten into holding themselves up in Mike’s apartment. That hadn’t been the plan when they started out, it just kinda happened.

They had forgone work, didn’t necessarily need to be there now that it had been taken over by that video game repair company. They spent their days instead watching movies and smoking cigarettes and weed, gone somewhat sooner than expected given Jay— previously a mostly non-smoker— had given into the temptation of boredom. The cigarette smoke had hit him like a freight that second night, however, and Jay was sick from the nicotine the whole evening. 

That had been kinda fun, in a weird kind of way. It allowed them to play house, Jay being needy and Mike doting on him and giving into his every whim when he complained of the nausea stuck in his throat and the annoying pulsing of blood in his head. Jay would end up doing the same for Mike two days later when Mike single-handedly finished off the last of the vodka. He was uncomfortable and pukey, and though Mike couldn’t remember much of that night, he remembered clearly Jay stroking his hair off of his forehead with a warm palm and a blurry expression of something like content adoration.

Sometimes they were less than gentle. On days of exceptional boredom, or as much as they could manage considering being with each other could never totally be dull, they would put on an annoying punk or metal album from Mike’s collection. They had put on Gnarkill’s self-titled album which was somewhere between parody and genuinely catchy music. Lyrics about erections and cumstains set to delicious guitar riffs set the tone for the evening as one pathetically ill-behaved. 

They ended up shoving at each other after a petty disagreement that didn’t really matter. It quickly escalated in playful— though at times, vicious— roughhousing. It was complex, this sloppy dance of half-assed violence. It felt more like their subconscious working something out, like an excuse to put their hands on each other and it was sharp and searing and primal. They were out of breath and spitting after a while, each landing rough shoves and jabs of their elbows and hands, knocking over the small table by the couch and pushing each other into countertops and walls, or up until Jay slapped Mike’s across the face and simultaneously twisted his wrist and busted Mike’s lip.

They had both fallen asleep on the floor that night feeling drunk and floaty, sharing the only bag of frozen peas Mike had in his freezer, Mike laying it over his mouth while Jay rested his wrist on top of it. 

On days they remembered to be human, they watched terrible movies and listened to inoffensive music and played a passive sort of game that seemed never ending. They called it, ‘Dealbreakers’ and it entailed describing the other’s perfect match in every conceivable sense but then throwing in a strange additional piece of information before asking, was that a dealbreaker?

For Jay, if he were about to hook up with his ideal man only to discover his closet to be full of hand-painted porcelain dolls, that was not a dealbreaker. Neither was having no mirrors in the entire house or having his taxidermied family dog standing guard by the front door but Jay drew the line at no shower curtain. Mike on the other hand gave leeway where Jay refused. Mike considered a lover who never laughed to be an absolute deal breaker but didn’t care about their puppetry hobbies or unconventional kinks.

“Really?” Jay had asked, shocked. “You wouldn’t care if someone pissed on you?”

“Well, it’s not just ‘someone.’ It’s my ideal partner.”

“It’s piss.”

Mike shrugged. “Eh.”

Jay curled his lip, shook his head. All this time they had known each other and they still couldn’t work the other entirely out. 

Mike’s apartment was small enough that they were practically living on top of each other. They squeezed past each other in hallways and there wasn’t a single empty room as long as the other was here and sometimes they swore silently to themselves that they could taste the other’s breath on their tongue whenever they went to talk. 

It should have been irritating as fuck practically living under another person’s skin but they soon discovered just how well they fitted together. 

The apartment had become their own little fragile ecosystem and soon enough, they were refusing to leave for much of anything, including laundry and food. 

So they ordered pizza and wore the same outfits all day and night, day after day, until their clothes stank, at which point they exiled them to the dark corner of Mike’s closet and adopted a new outfit, but each new outfit was one or two articles of clothing shorter than the last. Underwear was the first to go, socks long gone, hoodies no more. It was nothing but loose basketball shorts and shirtlessness, though Jay sometimes wore the sheet from Mike’s bed or a blanket around his shoulders like a cape when he got cold.

“Very regal, sir,” Mike said in a posh accent as Jay walked in with a ratty quilt hanging over his back.

Jay bowed slightly. “Why, thank you.”

They acted like real royalty too, the whole not bathing thing. Jay’s apartment might have been shit, but so was Mike’s. The electrical functioned just fine but the water was rarely warm. If anything, it was fucking refrigerated.

Jay had shrieked after feeling the spray, had spat curses at the freezing water clinging onto his hand and then up at Mike, as if it was Mike’s fault. Mike spat back and they went back and forth until they felt stupid enough to forget about it. It was an unofficial agreement that they should bathe sparingly, stick to the Tits, Pits and Ass plan of attack by use of hand towels. And although Mike had grown mostly accustomed to the cold water and sometimes even liked taking cold showers, Jay was his guest and Mike wasn’t one to make him feel inferior in any way that mattered.

Jay had no qualms about making Mike feel inferior, however. He stared openly at Mike’s bare gut in the reflection of the mirror clouded with toothpaste spittle as they scrubbed their underarms with towels sodden with freezing water. 

“You’re really hairy.”

“What do you mean?” Mike huffed.

The answer was obvious though; it was right there out in the open without the cover of his shirt. Jay tapped Mike’s stomach with the back of his finger and Mike’s skin twitched at the touch that shot through him to his bones.

“Leave me alone, you heathen,” Mike said, throwing the wet towel into the tub. “What about you, huh? Why don’t you grow any hair?”

Jay smiled, said that he did grow hair. Somewhat, anyway. Usually he would manscape but hadn’t in the last six months at least.

“This is all that’s grown.” Jay stroked through the few strands of blondish hair sprouting from between his pecs. “I have such a hard time growing hair, it’s a wonder I have a beard at all.” 

Mike obviously didn’t know much about manscaping so he asked Jay about it. Jay told him that it was based on personal preference, but that he preferred shaving, though he was also rather impartial to wax. He preferred haircutting scissors to trim his beard and a razor on his chest and nipple hair and once he had even attempted removing the hair on his balls with said razor but that had been a real horror show.

“You trim your ball hair?”

“Not since my last attempt. A year ago, maybe?” The experience hadn’t been gory, but it had freaked him out. Jay was as jittery as a chihuahua when he was particularly focused on a task and that did not bode well with sharp edges next to important body parts. 

“Do you trim yours?” Jay asked, then smirked. “Of course you don’t.”

“Hey!”

“I’m just making an assumption given the context clues. So am I right?”

Mike let him have that one. That smug little grin on Jay’s face irritated him so much that Mike curled his lip and held his palm over his face, giving him a playful shove that made Jay sway slightly back and cackle in that gurgly way he sometimes did.

Jay wouldn’t mind trying this kind of maintenance again and voiced as much, not just his balls but this little soul patch up above his waistband.  _ Here, look _ — and he was pulling down the elastic waistband of Mike’s shorts on his too-small waist, held tighter with the help of a rubber band that held the excess fabric in a kind of black mesh ponytail at his right hip. Unveiled, a dark patch of blonde hair, and there was more just under here, you should see it, and  _ say _ , do you have an electric razor?

Mike fetched one from under the sink. He plugged it in. Jay sat back on the closet toilet seat, elbows on the tank behind him and legs spread.

“Don’t you mind?” Jay said. “Should I trust you? Do you have a steady hand?”

“Super steady,” Mike assured and the razor had sounded like a beehive in his grip.

Mike kneeled between Jay’s legs. His left forearm rested on Jay’s thigh while his right hand made quick work chewing up the hair revealed to him when Jay pulled his waistband down a few inches. 

The fattish root of his dick was visible, looking velvety soft in the way flaccid dicks sometimes did. Mike suddenly realized that his desire was to stare and what did that mean? He knew what it meant. He’d always known. It made so much sense now that he wanted to laugh until his lungs hurt but that would shake his hand and Jay would kill him if he fucked this up.

Mike was steady, so steady that he was sure he could shave Jay’s pubes into any shape Jay would like. A star, maybe, or that was the first that came to mind. A heart, perhaps, but there was no love of his to gawk at it. 

Mike settled on something simple: a shorter length to his pubes and a clean up of the rouge strands growing too far from his groin and closer to the tops of his thighs. He guided the vibrating razor through Jay’s dark blonde pubes slow and constant and unrelenting. Mike easily accommodated the hills and valleys of Jay’s pelvis and did not mention the growing chub of Jay’s cock now filling out the front of his flimsy shorts. 

“You want me to do your balls?” 

Jay hummed in consideration as he looked down at him. Mike could smell him through his shorts. Wet towels could only do so much and while he was only getting whiffs, it was musky and bold, comfortable where it lived on the skin of his thighs and balls. And it wasn’t unpleasant, not to Mike, and that was when Mike knew he was in deep, had been for a while. 

Jay brushed a few clumps of hair from where they had fallen on Mike’s wrist. “Maybe next time.”

Mike turned off the razor, blew a soft current of air from his pursed lips over Jay’s newly shaved skin. Hair fluttered to the floor. Mike smiled when Jay shivered.

Jay requested Mike stay with him that night, in his bed.

“There’s something living in here,” Jay murmured sleepily into the pillow that smelled like Mike’s spit.

“Yeah, there might be a rat problem,” Mike said as he closed the bedroom door. “I leave out traps but I never catch any. I think they’re getting too smart. They’re evolving, Jay. They’re evolving.”

“No,” Jay huffed, “I mean. Something else.”

Mike crossed into the pitchblack room until his knees hit the end of the bed, at which point he crawled forward on all fours, nudging Jay with his arm so he slid closer to the wall. Mike laid down on the outside between Jay and the door, and again there was that feeling of providing safety for the man drowning in his clothes and dozing in his bed. 

“What something else?” It was so dark, Mike couldn’t see Jay in front of him but he felt him breathing, felt the warmth of his back inches from his own chest. 

“Something tall,” Jay whispered. “Something stick-thin and looming in the corner. My dreams manifested in a gaunt figure haunting me-”

“Oh shut up.”

Jay breathed a laugh through his nose, shifted under the sheets so he was partially laying back against Mike’s front.

“Your hands are cold all the time,” Jay said, even though Mike’s hands weren’t touching him.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because they are. When you put your hand on my face in the bathroom. It was cool.”

“It’s the water. I had just put my hand under the faucet.”

Jay hummed. “Did you go piss before you came in here?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t hear you flush.”

“I pissed in the sink.”

“And you washed your hands?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me feel.”

Mike reached a hand out in front of him. Jay grasped for him in the dark, circling around his wrist at first before feeling his fingers. He hummed in sleep-giddy satisfaction.

“What d’you want?” Mike grumbled, fighting a yawn.

“My crotch is itchy and, like, irritated. Well, not my crotch. But the area directly above my crotch? My ‘fupa’ if I had a fupa—”

Mike scoffed.

“It burns,” Jay said. 

“It burns?”

“Like razor burn, I think.”

“Does it really?”

“I’m not lying.”

Mike snaked his cool hand under covers, across Jay’s sharp hip and under the front of his waistband. The skin below his bellybutton was smooth but further down, it became noticeably hot with the blood just under the skin congregating around the small abrasions left by the razor and the tender bumps of ingrown hairs now germinating.

Mike whimpered lightly in his shallow dozing, fingers spreading out so his cool palm could act as an icepack against Jay heated skin.

Jay sighed, pleased. He leaned back against Mike’s chest and held his hand over the back of Mike’s. 

Mike never knew Jay could be so dirty. Of course Mike was and always had been, but Jay was the type to style his hair throughout the day and brush his teeth after lunch. He had entered into Mike’s domain and it felt like permission to be his most disgusting and real self, unapologetically.

Mike was honored to provide the safe space for him to do so.

He forgot to shave or maybe didn’t care enough to. Jay’s hair got longer. Jay would get his haircut every Saturday but he wasn’t viewing it as such a priority if it meant he’d have to leave this fragile ecosystem they had created together. Mike would ruffle his hair as they were passing each other in the hall or moving around the kitchen looking for something, anything, to eat.

And it was strange how that fleeting touch got to them. 

They were sensitive in ways they didn’t remember being in recent years, quick to blush and squirm when they accidentally brushed their groins against the sofa or a countertop, or when the AC came in from vent and brushed across their cheeks and down their necks and bare stomachs.

Mike was kind of glad Jay had effectively kicked him out of his own bed and had yet to request his presence again because Mike was waking up on the couch with aching hardons, but every time he thought he had enough time to tug himself off, Jay would shuffle into the living room, shirtless and bleary-eyed and in such a bad mood, and Mike would rather make him coffee than jack off in the living room instead. 

They did not announce their decision to just say fuck it, and ultimately and literally  _ fuck it _ . 

It just happened that way as they had been watching movie clips on Mike’s laptop. It had been a shitty horror movie with a comically horrendous sex scene that reminded Mike of a ridiculous scene in porn he had come across. It wasn’t a genuine porno watched in its entirety, more so just one of those thirty-second clips that went around Twitter, ala “Right in front of my salad?” Jay was already laughing as Mike told him about the terrible premise of an Improv Show Gone Wild and Jay goaded him on, saying, “What the fuck!? Look it up, look it up.”

So Mike did and was redirected to a legitimate porn site. They ignored the explicit ads plaguing the webpage and laughed over an embarrassing ‘dirty’ version of the alphabet game between two porn stars who couldn’t care less about being creative or convincing. 

The video ended, but their eyes were pulled to the other videos in the sidebar and together they picked another embarrassing-looking video, this time involving two porn stars dressed in tomato and cucumber costumes, the video appropriately called, “Tossing Salad.”

They laughed through that one, then picked another. And another.

But the chosen clips progressively began to stray from the comedic side of things and enter into more serious stuff. Soon enough a new heat was creeping across their faces as their smiles disappeared.

This one wasn’t even funny. If it was meant to be a sexy nurse parody it failed because it had replaced any self-aware comedy with hardcore fucking. 

Mike’s dick was filling up. His balls were hot. Come to think of it, he hadn’t jacked off since Jay got here. Ten whole days. He could feel how on edge he was now as the sight of a hard dick and a wet pussy woke him to the itch in his groin.

Mike was about to call it off as an ultimately failed expedition into some sexy hilarity, once focused, now derailed. But Jay was speaking up in a strained sort of voice. 

“Do that one.”

Mike nearly passed out. His limbs were light. His fingers felt swollen. Mike leaned forward and moved the cursor to hover over a video with the thumbnail of an anonymous cock laying against the asscheek of the titular slut in a video called ‘Slut Moans for Hard Cock.’

“This one?”

Jay nodded, answered in an airy and quiet, “Yeah.”

Mike clicked the video and sat back. A woman and a man popped up on screen and Mike smirked at the thought of imminent straight sex, said to Jay, “Aren’t you fucking gay?” 

“And what?” Jay spat at him. “I’m looking at his dick.”

“Are you even into buff guys?”

“I’m into cock.” 

Jay’s irritation and embarrassment and horniness colored his face a delectable shade of red. Mike wanted right then to lean over and lick the shimmer of sweaty arousal from his cheek.

The video began like many a porn video, without any of what they as aspiring filmmakers knew as establishing shots or character introductions. It was straight to the action and after not jerking off in so long, that was fine by them. But then it came to an abrupt end before the money shot even arrived. Their heavy breath could be heard in the silence and Jay was pointing at the screen with a loose but determined finger, eyes half-lidded. 

“That one,” he said with a gravelly voice, and he meant the one with the thumbnail of a man with a clear, jelly fucksleeve hugging his erection. 

“You got to pick last time,” Mike said, then whispered, “ _ Greedy,” _ under his breath, which elicited a gruff but bratty exhale from Jay. 

Mike could feel Jay’s eyes on him as he sat up to drag his finger across the touch pad again. This time, he winced slightly at the added pressure of his hard on the shift in position gave him.

Mike wasn’t exactly particular in the kind of porn he watched but he did have a preference or two. As a bisexual person himself, Mike liked to support bi, amateur creators in all their exploits, so he typed ‘amateur bisexual’ into the search bar and picked the second video. 

“You like amateur stuff?” Jay said. Mike’s mind short-circuited for a second, his poor head unable to accept the possibility that Jay would ever be asking him his porn preferences.

“Yeah. I can’t do professional stuff.”

“Me either.”

Jay was rushing his words, not intentionally, just out of pent-up energy or excitement. He sounded somewhat relieved that Mike liked the same kind of porn he did or something, reacting as if they liked the same kind of arthouse film or something and now had something new and in-depth to talk about. 

“It’s too fake,” Mike said, putting on his critiquing hat for a second.

“Exactly,” Jay said, following suit enthusiastically. “It’s, like, annoying. The way they get so loud and I have this theory-”   
“You have a theory about porn?”

Jay glared at Mike for no more than a second, because their shared eye-contact for the first time since they’d embarked on their exploration of nudey videos was surprisingly overwhelming, like trying to look at the sun and having to look away on instinct. 

They averted their eyes back to the screen and Jay answered Mike without his usual bite, as if he had forgotten to.

“I have this theory that the louder the actors are, the less into it they are.”

“Compensating,” Mike supplied.

Jay nodded. “Yeah, completely.”

The video filled in the silence between them, this time replaced by very genuine moans of pleasure. Ticklish heat crawled through Mike’s veins and blossomed in his shaft and cockhead, now plumped and sensitive in his pants. Mike slid his eyes down to his lap and found the distinct bulge of his hard dick pressing up against the front of the pair of boxers he was wearing in lu of shorts. 

Mike chanced a peek over at Jay’s crotch. What a mistake that was because as soon as he did, he was moaning quietly, eyelashes fluttering as another wave of heat rolled through him, head to toe.

Jay was hard. Really hard. Of course he was, but now Mike could see that Jay had been discreetly dragging the back of the fingernail of his index finger up and down the hard line of his dick through his shorts, constant and teasing. Thankfully he was able to shift his eyes to the screen before Jay could realize his lecherous gaze on him.

This was bad.

This was soon to be absolute embarrassment at the sight of Mike’s raging hard on while Jay was vibing. Jay- always calm and collected. Mostly, anway. Mike was sweating at his collar, itchy in his testicles and hot in his cockhead. Proximity to someone so horny was doing it for him too, and Mike felt like one of those pandas once too lazy and fluffy to fuck now horned up after watching some panda porno. The tug in his gut was building, aching for relief after this surprise stint in abstinence.

This couldn’t go on anymore. Enough was enough. 

Mike braced a hand on the armrest to his left. He shifted to the edge of the couch as if he was getting up. The video had ended and the following silence was nerve wracking. Mike turned to look at Jay over his shoulder, and found Jay’s expression to be one of nervous anticipation. 

“I’m gonna…” Mike cleared his throat. “I’m gonna go to the, uh…  _ bathroom _ .”

Jay arched an eyebrow, the ghost of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Gotta piss?”

“No, I—… I’m getting horny.”

“I am, too.”

Mike was simultaneously shocked and not shocked at the openness with which they discussed the subject of their arousal. Living together and being constantly with each other twenty-four-seven had changed something between them. And this change was something that made conversations like this possible. 

“I mean. I’m really hard, dude.” Jay’s eyes flickered to Mike’s crotch before he could stop himself. Mike felt both embarrassed and proud of the complex expression of interest and awkwardness pulling at Jay’s face.

“Yeah,” Jay said. “Do you want… do you want to keep watching videos?”

Mike chewed the inside of his cheek, slid his eyes around the room as he tried to gauge the horny tenseness of his own body and the tightness of his balls.

“It’s starting to hurt.”

“Your dick?” Jay asked, sounding too soft and too casual, which only made Mike’s cock throb more. 

“My balls too. Like, I need to cum.”

The deepest blush Mike had ever seen crawled across Jay’s cheeks at the revelation. They had never talked like this but it just made sense, this sort of honest fearlessness that showed just how comfortable they were with each other. Jay’s eyes slid closed. Mike almost thought he was tired or something, but then his eyes were sliding back open with an acute awakeness just for this.

“Pick the next video,” Jay said, and Mike watched, brainless, as Jay openly cradled the hard outline of his dick through the pair of Mike’s basketball shorts he was wearing.

It took a second for Mike to come to his senses and pick up the subtle indication of what Jay was putting down, one that said there was no need to run off to the bathroom to empty your balls into a wad of toilet paper. In Jay’s swimmy gaze was the order to ‘just stay.’

Mike laid back against the back of the couch and followed Jay’s lead. He held a hand over his dick, the heat of which he could feel through the flimsy material of his green plaid boxers. He gave himself a squeeze, once, twice harder.

“What, Mike?” Jay murmured at Mike’s airy whine at the back of his throat.

“It’s…”

“Good.”

“Yeah.”

Mike made the mistake of taking his hand from his groin to wipe at a bead of sweat at his temple, because as soon as he did, the head of his erection pushed impatiently through the slit at the front of his boxers. Mike fumbled to cover himself back up, afraid that he might scare Jay off with the surprise nudity that even he hadn’t even expected but Jay’s eyes fluttered between the hand Mike shielded his dick with and Mike’s dark eyes. “It’s fine.”

“Yeah?”

Jay licked his lips, eyes focused on the wind-bitten back of Mike’s hand. “ _ Yeah _ .”

Mike slowly pulled his hand slowly away. His hardness was incessant and he didn’t need to help his dick through the slit of his boxers all that much. All eight and a half inches of himself slipped into view through the plaid curtain. Mike groaned; the air felt cool on his aching dick and the sight of him, red and heavy and pulled through the slit in his boxers was filthy and flattering to his larger size.

“Are you serious?” 

Jay asked this in a quiet voice, looking up at Mike as if waiting for an explanation. His expression was open, comfortable. Mike couldn’t make his tongue move. He nodded instead.

“That’s one of the biggest dicks I’ve ever seen.”

“You see a lot of dicks?”

Jay just rolled his eyes, looked ahead at the laptop that had since turned to the screensaver. “Are you picking another video or not?”

Mike did pick another video, this time one of a bisexual threesome involving two men and one woman. Then it was Jay’s turn to pick, and he picked a video of a gay couple playing dom and sub, all dressed in ropes and leather. 

“You’re into BDSM?”

Jay didn’t answer. He seemed almost drunk, a drifty look swirling around in his eyes with the reflected light of the laptop screen. He rolled his shoulders back into the soft couch cushion behind him and turned his head in a way that exposed his neck. His eyes never left the screen.

“I don’t like a lot of it,” Jay admitted but he didn’t sound too disappointed. “The ‘whore’ and ‘bitch’ talk is annoying as fuck. I like the look.”

Mike laughed. “You watch porn for the fashion?”

“Shut up. Kinda.” Jay licked his lips just as the dom grinded his leather-clad cock against the black latex crease of the sub’s ass. “It’s just. Okay, the look is kinda cool. Aesthetic means a lot more to me in porn. I went through a phase where I could only watch 4K porn.”

“You’re such a fucking hipster.”

“Fuck you.”

Mike was having so much fun teasing Jay that he almost forgot he was supposed to be horny.

The dry-humping continued on screen, the squeak of latex somewhat comical to Mike in its ridiculousness and how engaging it was to Jay who sat staring, mouth fallen open around his still somewhat too-big teeth. The two on screen introduced some new pieces to their elaborate outfits, this time black gas masks attached to long hoses. 

“This is scary, Jay.”

Jay whipped his head to him. “Is it freaking you out? We can choose a different one.”

He said it with the same attentiveness and intensity as if Mike was the sub wearing the partial gimp suit.

“I’m fine,” Mike said, voice soft with this fact, but Jay turned it off anyway. 

“Can I show you another cool one?” he asked. “Aesthetically?”

“Does it have serial killer vibes or not?”

“No serial killer vibes,” Jay assured. 

This one  _ was _ interesting aesthetically. It was a regular amateur video but the bedside lamp’s lightbulb had been replaced with a color changing one. The thumbnails in the related section on the side were colored green and red and orange and purple, but this one was cast in the deepest dark blue of blacklight. 

Could blacklight be hot? 

They looked like moving pieces of art painted many shades of a single color. It might have just been the Star Trek fanboy in him but they really did look like other worldly creatures with the dark blue light blanketing their skin, and wasn’t it a comfort that these ethereal beings fucked too, that they got hard and wet and shot cum from the tips of their dicks.

“Fucking poetic,” Mike whispered, and Jay nodded.

This one was good. They fucked good, too, fucked like Mike liked to fuck: deep and leisurely. Jay, perhaps growing too frustrated at his own teasing, huffed in agitated relief as he began to palm himself harder through his shorts. Mike peeked over and met with the barely there sight of a darker, somewhat shimmery spot at the front of his pants. 

“Is that—“

“Yeah.”

“It’s not cum, right?”

Jay shivered, fingers twitching and eyes fluttering. “Just precum.”

“Damn, you’re wet. You get wet like that all the time?”

Mike didn’t know where this was coming from, didn’t know if this was allowed. He was just talking and by the look of Jay’s face, it seemed like Jay liked what Mike had to say. 

“Most of the time, yeah.” Jay was breathless, soft.

“You can take yourself out, if you want. I mean. In case you thought—”

“Not yet.”

“Are you not-“

“I just. Like to tease myself first. I… make myself wait. It’s better when I wait.”

“What’s better, Jay?” Mike’s voice was becoming ragged. His cock was dribbling translucent beads of precum with each hard twitch it gave in time to his heartbeat now almost deafening in his ears. Jay had a hard time keeping his eyes off it. His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed.

“My orgasm.” Jay squeezed himself through his pants and dragged his thumb in maddening slow circles over his cockhead leaking through the fabric. “It’s more intense after waiting for a while. I tease myself until I can feel it in my taint— my orgasm. And then I jack off, and it feels so fucking good. It’s so worth it.” Jay bared his throat with a shaky inhale. He looked over at Mike, cheeks ablaze, and Mike decided this was the most erotic sight he had ever seen in his life. “You don’t make yourself wait.”

“Hell no.”

“Hell no,” Jay echoed dreamily and the look in his eyes could be described as ‘adoring.’

“I get down to it,” Mike said. “If there’s lotion around, great. But I’ll spit in my hand and call it a day, I don’t care.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Why don’t I care?”

“Why don’t you get down to it? Right now.” 

Mike was stunned silent for a second. Then he mumbled quietly, “Didn’t know I could.”

Jay pressed his cheek into the sofa cushions at the back of the couch. “Of course you can. This is your apartment. You can do whatever you want.”

Mike looked down at the intimidating sight of his almost-purple cock. It was a monstrous sight, he could see that now as he stared at it, finally got what his past hookups meant when they said it was ‘too much.’

Mike hoped it didn’t look like too much as he wrapped a shaky, calloused hand around the engorged shaft. The skin was firm and feverishly hot with the pulse of blood throbbing through his veins. Mike squeezed himself. A drop of precum swelled at his slit. 

Tension melted out of him as Mike began stroking himself from base to tip. He twisted his wrist every time he reached the sensitive head and breathed pleasured exhales past his dried lips. 

Mike looked over and saw Jay had hooked his fingers into his waistband and was pulling down slowly. His cock sprung free from its black mesh confines and slapped his stomach, bobbing a few times before coming to a rest at an acute angle. Jay was flushed, hard, twitchy. He was cute.

And when Jay asked, “What?”, Mike shook his head with a smirk and Jay said, “Good. You talk too much.”

Jay wrapped a hand around himself and a hard shiver rocked Jay’s entire body from that alone. It made Mike’s mouth water, stoked something protective in him that made him want to take care of Jay, to give him pleasure like that, to keep him safe from the prying eyes of the world.

They began masturbating side by side. The slickness of their palms caused a creamy, sticky sound, at a different frequency given both of them were using a different speed on themselves. 

Mike preferred a ‘no shit’ approach to masturbating. No wasted time; sometimes he couldn’t move his hand fast enough. But Jay was into long strokes so slow they were almost unclockable. When he got to the head, he’d drag his flat palm around the engorged glans like he was polishing himself with his own copious amount of precum. And the other’s style seemed to captivate the other person, porn forgotten in the background as they stared at each other’s dick. 

“I- I wanna touch you.” 

Jay coughed up this admission almost painfully. Mike pitied the strain of his voice, the tightness of his forearms, the dramatic arch of his irritated, red dick.

“Yeah.” Mike nodded. “Okay.”

He took his hand from his dick and laid it palm down on the cushion beside his sweaty thigh. Jay didn’t waste any time touching Mike’s stomach, rubbing, gripping too tight, pulling the hair there with the curl of his fingers. 

“Can I-“

“Yeah,” Jay said and Mike’s fingers were on him too, sliding across his flat stomach and squeezing at his quivering skin. 

Jay’s grip on Mike seemed uncertain at first, moving without a real rhythm. Maybe it felt exploratory, like he was trying to map the hills and valleys of the swollen veins down his shaft by touch alone.

Then he started picking it up once he got more familiar. Jay moved his hand from base to tip at a steady pace, watching with his lips parted as Mike’s dick dragged against his skin and prodded at the air on each downstroke.

“Is that good?”

Mike tucked a fluffy piece of hair behind Jay’s ear. “Of course it’s good.”

“How do you like it?”

“Fucking sloppy.”

“Wet?”

“I wanna have to wipe my ass afterwards.”

Jay brought his hand to his mouth and spat and drooled into his palm before wrapping it back around Mike. The excessively sticky slickness of the saliva covering his palm made Mike groan and twitch heavily in Jay’s grip. 

“Like that?”

“Ffffuuu—  _ hah _ ,” Mike laughed. “Fuck, you’re so good, Jay. Can I—“

“Yeah.”

Mike wrapped his hand around Jay’s dick. It fit perfectly in his hand and when he squeezed a bit harder, Jay made a whiny sound and arched up into his fist. 

“How do you like it?” Mike asked. 

“Tight.” Mike tightened his grip. “Tighter. Tighter at the head—  _ fuck _ , just like that.”

Mike could feel him throbbing against the bridge of his palm. A grip like this would be painful on his own dick but Jay liked the inescapable feeling of Mike’s hand on him. He was fidgety and breathing too hard, his restlessness evident in the hurried jacking of his hand on Mike and the shifting of his hips from side to side. 

Without taking his hand from him, Mike tapped briefly at the shiny tip of his cock. A thread of precum bridged his fingertip to Jay’s slit. Jay was panting so hard that his chest and belly were deflating dramatically, his eyelids heavy over his unfocused eyes, and his cock looked so delicious, Mike wanted to suck him into his mouth and hold him there for hours. 

Mike twisted his hand as he came up from the base to the head, tightening his grip simultaneously, and Jay pressed his face against the side of Mike’s, the bridge of his nose grinding just under Mike’s stubbly jaw. “ _ M-Mike,  _ please-“

Mike’s hand stilled. Jay sobbed, actually sobbed out a pathetic cry, but Mike held steadfast and immobile on Jay’s cock, twitching impatiently against his palm.

“ _ Shh _ . Go on, Jay. Give it good.”

Jay wasn’t sure what Mike meant at first but then he was moaning as it clicked. Jay braced a hand on Mike’s wrist as he began to roll his hips upward to fuck the warm ring of Mike’s fist. His wet, red cockhead peeked through the deliciously tight circle of Mike’s fingers and disappeared back down into the hot tunnel of his hand, quicker now as Jay began to fuck it faster, harder, forcing his hips up so his fat balls were flush with Mike’s fingers before yanking them back for another rough thrust.

“That’s how you fuck, isn’t it, Jay?” Mike’s musings came cool and quiet, teasing. “You own that pussy.”

It didn’t matter Jay had never fucked or had any remote interest in fucking pussy; he was moaning loud anyway. Jay was still jacking Mike off during all of this, his speed rapid and his palm squelching with how wet it was, fingers tightening with every wicked twist and tug Mike unleashed on Jay’s twitchy dick. 

Mike came without warning. He let out a long, low groan that rumbled deep in his chest as his thick release dripped over Jay’s knuckles like melted wax, slow and opaque.

“O- Oh fuck.” Jay was a mess of whimpers and broken-off choking sounds that were somewhat worrying to Mike who was rather quiet when he got off. Mike was still panting as he helped still Jay’s hand on his too sensitive dick. Jay complied but refused to let go of him. 

“Are you close?” Mike asked but found that to be stupid when Jay was clearly going unhinged.

One thrust more, two, three— Jay came hard. His release painted his stomach and chest in watery drops of cum. Mike tried to catch as much of it as he could in his hand but he was mostly too late or hypnotized by the broken open look Jay gave in the immediate aftermath, so he just let it drip from his fingers and cool on Jay’s skin.

They stared at each for the next few minutes, delirious with the lack of oxygen in their still spasming lungs and with the lightheadedness caused by the blood still pumping lazily to their wet, half-swollen cocks resting in the other’s hand. Their grips went soft and eventually broke away and their winces of oversensitivity were identical.

Mike closed the laptop with his foot. Jay combed a hand through his trimmed pubes like prickly velvet. 

They had to shower; the smell of body odor was one thing but the smell of days old armpit sweat mixed with semen promised to be rancid. Jay was tired and growing pissy with being jostled and brought up from the couch, saying how he would only shower if Mike showered with him and kept him warm beneath the frigid spray of water. 

So Mike did, was glad to do it. The frigid water pummeled his back while Jay huddled against his front, shivery and too tired to keep his eyes open. Mike rubbed up and down the prickly goosebumps covering Jay’s entire back and hummed pleasantly against his ear when he felt the soft fuzz of hair on Jay’s cold ass cheeks standing erect as well. 

Mike made quick work of scrubbing the days of sweat and filth off of their skin with a small bottle of shampoo he had stolen from the motel he had hooked up with some woman at about a month ago. At one point before washing the suds off of Jay’s shoulders, Jay pissed on Mike’s leg and the action felt as gross as it did animalistic, like Jay was marking his territory. Mike had laughed, bellowing really, and stroked Jay’s annoyed, flushed face, murmured praise and teasing.

“You’re not gonna share me, are you?”

Jay huffed out of his nose, brows furrowing. “And so what?”

Mike just shook his head with a fond smile and let the water rush over them for a minute longer if it meant Jay would keep clinging to his tits and chest hair. 

They dried off using the same towel but didn’t bother to dress. Jay pulled Mike down the hall and into bed, dropping the towel from around his shoulders to the floor before slipping under the covers. Warmth seeped from their pores as they huddled together under the sheets that smelt like the both of them now. 

It felt natural, like this was the next logical step in their relationship. This was possible in this perfect place they had made for themselves away from the world, away from everyone and out of the snow, where clothes were optional and skin was fragrant. 

Jay reached forward with a puff of air from his nostrils and brought Mike’s arm to wrap around his waist. Mike pressed his smile against the top of Jay’s head and tightened his arm around him, bringing his cold form closer to warm up against his chest and gut. Jay brought his legs up and curled his cold toes into Mike’s thighs, murmured soundlessly against him and it felt like a kiss against Mike’s collarbone. 

And if Jay received another email the following morning saying it was safe to return home, both of them ignored it in exchange for at least one more day in paradise. 


End file.
